


Better Just Stay Down

by PuddingsWithProblems



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hurt Billy Hargrove, Hurt Steve Harrington, M/M, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, billy also wants a hug, only slightly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingsWithProblems/pseuds/PuddingsWithProblems
Summary: Steve Harringtons father was terrifying, his words were cold and his eyes were even colder. For as long as he could remember his father was a looming prescence always there and never happy.or Steve's father is an emotionally abusive dick and he's struggling to cope with it





	1. Tend to Block Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was purely self-indulgent, i see a lot of fics talk about the effects the neglect has on Steve so i decided to write a fic as a what-if scenario for if his father was verbally and emotionally abusive.

His father was terrifying, that was the word he would use to describe him whenever somebody deigned to ask him about his parents. The person he answered would always laugh and crack a witty comment about how they’d be intimidated by their parents if they were so rich as well…. And Steve, he never bothered to correct their assumptions. Because his father was terrifying, but not for the reasons they thought.

After all King Steve was the kid with the rich parents and the perfect house, the perfect car, the perfect hair. Why would the thought even cross their mind that he, The King was sometimes too scared to even breathe loudly in his house?

His father never beat him that he was able to say with certainty but when, on the increasingly rare instances when his parents were home it’s like a veil shrouded the house. An intensity that wasn’t there when his parents were away. Something hung in the air.

Because his father was angry, not even in the calm and controlled way. No, his anger was explosive and triggered at the slightest noise, the slightest inconvenience. Lashing out at whatever was closest.

Steve had vivid childhood memories of his father slamming doors and storming around the house in a blind rage while his mother tried to hide him in his room…. sometimes it worked. More often than not it didn’t and his father would come fuming, shouting and shrieking and he would have to sit there and take it for however long his father decided to go for.

When he was young his mother would defend him whenever his father would start ripping into him for some mundane reason, like he’d put a cup down without a coaster. But gradually, as the years passed and he grew older and the rage never diminished she grew weary, and eventually she stopped helping. Staying quiet and present at his father’s side always.

He could never resent her for it though because he wished that he could say his father only lashed out at him but no it was a universal anger and no one was safe from it. So no. He could never blame his mother for breaking a little, for becoming a quite woman, a shadow of her former self, at the constant ridicule she endured from her husband.

There would be times when he honestly thought his father would hit him, times his father had threatened to beat him and he wasn’t sure what was worse actually being beaten and knowing how to avoid it or being in a constant state of fear that one wrong breath would be the tipping point. The constant anxiety, the fear of uncertainty, it choked him, immobilised him.

The most annoying thing about it all, was that he loved his father. There were times that he was a decent human being. He made sure that Steve was clothed and fed and he sent him money when he needed it. On the occasion that they had a civil conversation it was nice. But then he’d say the wrong thing or talk too loudly and the anger that was always sizzling under the surface, waiting for Steve to slip up, was back again.

When he dated Nancy, he confided in her how terrified he was of his father and how scared he was that he was going to be hit or that his father would realise that he didn’t want to work for him and kick him out. She tried to hide it but he could see how upset she was by the situation.

She quickly became his pillar, when his parents were home for the week and it got too scary he’d sneak over to hers’ using some lame excuse, and even though she saw right through it, she never pressed it. When his depression hit and he couldn’t stand looking at himself in the mirror without his fathers’ words echoing in his mind he’d run to her arms and try to ignore it.

That’s what he was good at, ignoring what he didn’t want to admit to. If his father was getting angrier and angrier as the years went on he ignored it. If his anxiety and depression kept getting worse he ignored it.

For the rest of their relationship she tried to get him to tell someone about his home life, Hopper, the guidance counsellor, anyone. But what could he do? His dad never hit him, he wasn’t starved or begging for a shred of cloth to dress himself. And deep down he knew that his father still loved him, even if he had a twisted was of showing it. 

And soon that was pushed into the backseat when Will Byers disappeared, Barbara went missing from his house, Nancy, the one reliable person in his life, was potentially cheating on him and he faced off against a monster.

It was a hectic period of time but Will Byers came back, he found out that Barbara was actually dead, Nancy was not in fact cheating on him and he survived the fight.

All in all it could have been worse.

After that the new school year started and with it came the new student Billy Hargrove. He was made of jagged edges, sharp words and a poisonous smile, but for whatever reason Steve couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

Maybe it was because he recognised Billy’s eyes. Eye’s so similar to his own, eyes hiding pain and a weariness no child should possess. Whatever it was, he couldn’t get enough of it. That was probably why he convinced Nancy to go to that party with him.

Which as it turned out, was one of the worst decisions he possibly could have made. Suddenly he was bullshit. His pillar of support crumbled and whatever safety he once found in her arms became cold and desolate.

That was probably why, despite himself, he started to strike up a tentative friendship with billy. He felt safe around him, understood in some strange unspoken way.

Shared cigarettes behind the bleachers soon turned into conversations by their cars while waiting to pick the kids up, which then turned into late night rendezvous at the quarry, they could spend hours down there doing nothing but talking, or even better, not saying anything at all.

Months passed and he was happy again, slowly picking up the pieces, he got used to the nightmares and prevailing insomnia that he had developed. He had a friend in Billy and over the course of their many late-night talks he could say with confidence that he trusted him.

And while Billy had never told him about what happened at home he wasn’t stupid. Whenever Billy would come to the quarry with a fresh bruise on his cheek or favouring a certain leg, Steve never said anything. Just sat next to him in silence, ready to listen when the time came.

Billy reacted differently than Nancy had when Steve finally confessed one drunken night about his parents. How lonely he was at a home with echoing hallways and shadowed doorways. He confessed that even as lonely as he was, he would choose that a hundred time over if it meant not having to face his father’s terrifying presence, his harsh words and cold stares. He confessed how, for the first time since he could remember, his father had struck him. Funnily enough the reason was because he didn’t like Steve’s look when his father had started yelling at him for not coming home on time. It seemed like such a small thing, but apparently it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Yes, Billy reacted very differently than Nancy had. Nancy, with her quiet worry had lovingly wrapped him in her arms and tried to fix the situation. No, Billy had gone quiet. His eyes steely as he shuffled closer and offered Steve a shoulder to cry on, never saying a word but his tense jaw and even tenser shoulders spoke volumes for him.

Looking back on it Steve thought that he should have reacted differently when his father had finally hit him, but he couldn’t do anything but stand there in shock, his body tense, as his father kept yelling. Feeling painfully aware of the burning pain in his cheek.

After that it was like floodgate had opened and soon it wasn’t just Billy limping into the quarry’s at night nursing new bruises. Granted, his father wasn’t anywhere near as violent as Billy’s but it still hurt when his father decided to slam him into doorways in frustration or slap him around if he found out that he was failing a class.

It was nice being able to have someone to confide in and have that person actually understand the pain you were in, it felt intimate. Maybe that was why when the upside down resurfaced he didn’t feel as scared dealing with it this time.

How could he when he had Billy waiting for him at the quarry just like always.


	2. Is It Silly Of Me To Dream?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy Hargrove is all hard edges and mean words and since he can remember he's always been like this.  
> or billy through the years leading up to his inevitable meet up with Steve.

At 8 Billy could say with certainty that he hated his father, and he can pinpoint the exact moment he started to hate him. On his 8th birthday when he saw his father beat his mother for the first time made something inside of him go numb, it was like someone had reached into his chest and was squeezing so tightly that he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

After that first strike it’s like his father couldn’t get enough of it, that power, the control over another person was addictive and in the next 6 months of his life his father morphed into something he couldn’t even recognise.

An angry and violent drunk whose anger was like a blizzard, harsh and cold raging and taking out whatever was in its path. His father was controlled though never losing his cool even in his most enraged moments always waiting for the most opportune time to strike. That was probably the most terrifying thing about him. Even at age 8 billy could sense the danger that lurked behind those cold eyes even despite his mother’s attempts at keeping him safe. 

His mother, she was beautiful and kind, all blond hair golden skin and sky-blue eyes. Her words were soft yet had a strength behind them that only she seemed to possess. Whenever she hugged him he felt safe and loved. On the worst days when his father would lurk around the house waiting for a moment to strike she would smile at him and say “let’s go get some ice-cream billy” and for those couple of hours he could imagine that it was just him and his mum no Neil, no angry words muffled by thin walls, no sounds of his mother’s choked off cries as she tried to hide how much pain she was in. just them happy together.

 Of course, It was only a matter of time before she got sick, looking back now he shouldn’t have been shocked. She was pushing herself to the breaking point working 2 jobs for them, dealing with Neil and his abuse and still having to take care of billy it’s a wonder her body didn’t give up sooner.

At 10 he watched his mothers’ casket be lowered into the ground quiet tears falling on his cheeks. He’s huddled under her too large jean jacket and clutching her necklace in his fist trying to get them to stop shaking. No more would he see her bright hair in the sun. No more would he wake up to her gentle kisses on the forehead. She was dead and all he could do was stand there and cry as Neil stood behind him; a looming presence that he would grow to despise with every fibre of his being.

That tiny piece in him that had gone numb unfurled growing and consuming him until all he could feel was the anger bubbling and simmering under his skin waiting to be unleashed like wildfire on any unfortunate victim.

He’s 12 and used to the hands that grab him and shove him around the house, only a child and already knowing how to cover the bruises and cuts without drawing attention to them so that well-meaning teachers don’t ask questions that shouldn’t be answered. Neil already having had 3 girlfriends each one running after realising how much of a monster he was.

He lured them with nice words and sweet gestures bringing them home and trapping them in his hold where they either got stuck or fled. He never had the option of fleeing. Cowering in the corner as he is shoved against walls and taught how to be responsible and how to respect his superiors.

He was 12 and hid his sadness behind a guise of cruel words and harsh smiles, deterring anyone from getting too close. His anger sometimes bubbled so close to the surface it felt like he was going to explode the only release was to _do_ something. He welcomed the feeling of his anger washing over him anything to numb the crushing anxiety at having to walk back to his house.

At 13 he still hides in the confines of his mother’s too large jacket, holding the necklace like a lifeline as he cowers in his bedroom listening to his father rage through the house hoping, praying that he won’t come into his room. He should know better than to pray by now.

He starts smoking at 13 and the nicotine helps calm him. He knows that his mother would be rolling on her grave if she knew but he finds it hard to care.

He’s 14 and he’d like to think that he’s apathetic too the happenings in his life but that would be a lie and not even a very good one. He still dreams of the blurry images of his mother her smile and blue eyes haunting his visions as he thinks of a better ‘could have been’. Body aching from bruises and harsh words hoping that his mother will come and save him.

At 14 he meets Andrew, he’s tall and powerful a year older and acts like he could never be held down by the constraints of other people’s opinions. He’s refreshing, large smiles and ambitions too big for a 15-year-old. He was beautiful different from his mother’s beauty with chocolate skin, untameable hair and bright eyes. His friends are bright and happy a nice change from the depression that lurks behind forced smiles and cocky smirks.

By the time he’s 15 he’s grown into his body, tall and lanky his mothers’ jacket only looking slightly too big on him now. He’s 15 and finds comfort in secret embraces with Andrew, happy with the little niche he’s carved out for himself and the people he’s met.

He hides this budding relationship from Neil knowing what would happen if he found out, Neil who was always open about his stance on the ‘fucking faggots’ and the ‘dirty black folk’. Andrew was both of the things his father hated most and if he had to fight tooth and nail to keep them together he would.

At 15 he’s acing his classes, nearly top of the basketball team and it finally looks like things are up for him he’s got a future away from his father forging a ‘could be’ with Andrew.

At 16 his father meets Susan and with her comes the child Maxine. He actually doesn’t mind them Susan seems to calm the rage his father contains wanting to actually make her happy rather then beat on him and he’s more than happy for it. She’s quiet and soft-spoken perfect for a person like Neil. Maxine isn’t bad either she’s all fire and attitude even at 11 she’s got spite on her tongue and a whip smart brain to boot.

He’s grown into his mothers’ jacket and is bulking up no longer the lanky teen. He’s intimidating and powerful finally feeling like he has some control over his life. he can only hope that things stay like this when he’s finally enjoying how things are going.

Like he said before he should know better than to hope by now.

Max decides to follow him when he and Andrew meet up and she catches them sharing a kiss. so shocked that she is she immediately turns tail and runs back home tattling to Susan and subsequently Neil. all he can do is watch as she runs away knowing that when he goes home it won’t be pretty. that’s probably when his life really starts to fall apart. It’s funny he thought his life fell apart when his mother died but this, yeah this felt like his entire body had been dumped in ice and then run through.

All Andrew could do was hold him as he broke apart in his arms neither knowing what to do in the face of a storm like Neil.

At 16 he walked into his house too scared to even breathe and was met with rough hands and the face of his father too close his eyes looking rabid. He can vaguely see Susan and max looking horrified in the background but he’s done this before to look away is to show disrespect and he doesn’t need to make the situation any worse.

The following events pass in a blur Max and Susan are asked ‘politely’ to leave and then his father is shoving him to the floor spit flying from his mouth as he screams at him. Refusing to believe that he could have conceived a faggot. He’s actually scared that his father will kill him this time but no by the end of it he’s bloody and bruised pulling himself to his room where he curls up and tries to stop the happiness that he once had slip away.

The next day he’s forced out of his room for breakfast like the ‘proper’ family that they are, he ignores the horrified looks that Max and Susan give him too numb to care as he eats, feels his lip split back open as blood falls down his chin onto the table.

At that time Neil announces that to start fresh they’re moving to Hawkins Indiana and once again he feels that numbness stretch and unfurl completely enveloping him and this time he knows it’s to stay. In the next week he says goodbye to his friends and packs getting ready to move to the middle of fucking nowhere.

He only sees Andrew once in that time and it was met with tears and the knowledge that they will likely never see each other again. One final kiss shared in secret both wishing that this had never happened.

He’s 17 and he’s filled with rage, at himself, at the world definitely at Neil. He’s completely grown into his mothers’ jacket now and while that should make him happy he feels nothing. He’s in the middle of nowhere entirely on his own whatever life he could have had with Andrew slipped through his fingers before he could even get a glimpse at it.

He wants to be able to blame someone, blame his mother for abandoning him, blame Andrew for letting them get caught, blame max for tattling but no all he too is blame himself for being so fucking useless he can’t even keep safe what makes him happy.

At 17 he meets Steve Harrington he’s different, kind yet he has an exhaustion around him that he recognizes to be far too similar to his own to be comfortable. Steve it appears is determined to make nice and no matter how mean he is Steve just keeps coming back.

Soon they’re sharing quiet conversations behind the bleachers hanging out before he has to take max home and eventually late-night rendezvous at the quarry. It’s like this companionship lifts a weight off of his chest.

Soon he was able to say that he found genuine comfort in Steve’s presence, he was kind and a little bit too jaded for a teenager, they got into fights sometimes but it was theirs and they were happy together.

He knew despite what everyone said Steve wasn’t stupid he could put two and two together but he appreciated that when they met up and he was bruised and battered he wouldn’t bring it up just sit there and talk about anything and everything.

And while he knew that Steve’s home life couldn’t be the best hearing him actually confess to it one night about how lonely and cold he was at home. How scared he was of his father’s lurking presence made something inside of him become wound tight with worry. He knew he couldn’t do anything words of reassurance did nothing so if all he could do was sit there and let Steve cry on him he’d do it in a heartbeat.

After that night something in their dynamic changed, what was once a friendship became something else something more intimate and when Steve came to the quarry one night a fresh bruise on his cheeks and Steve’s face carefully blank all he could do was pull Steve to him and hold him for however long it took.

And even if Steve suddenly became more jaded, quieter, more worried he would sit by his car at the quarry ready to welcome Steve back with open arms and gentle words. Because even though he’d learnt not to hope he couldn’t help but feel like this time his happiness was to stay.


End file.
